


A Fobwatch and a Sapphire-Studded Choker

by Rinari7



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (Not intended as a metaphor for anything in particular but likely to be triggering for some people), (due to the fobwatching), Alien Marriage Ceremony, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Chaos, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Microaggressions, Dubious Consent, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fobwatched Doctor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Interpersonal Power Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Pronoun Use, Rose as the fobwatched Doctor's wife, Rose realizing her sapphicness, Sexual Content, Social Issues, Sort Of, Swearing, Systematic Oppression and Dehumanization of Alien Species, TARDIS Crash, Vampires, mild horror elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: After the Doctor's latest regeneration, the TARDIS crashes on Vhampre Four, and needs time to recuperate. One issue: the Doctor is wanted by the local authorities, and can't be seen on this planet. Issue Number Two: everyone seems to think Rose and the Doctor are a couple, including the fobwatched Doctor herself. And Issue Number Three: the nativevhampiiridrink blood...





	1. Prologue: A Typical Regeneration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naturalblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturalblues/gifts).



> This is my fill for her 2017 DW Secret Santa request. I was incredibly happy to see your fic preferences and requests; they fit what I love to read and write so, so well, I knew I had to do this.
> 
> I hope you'll forgive my less-than reliable update schedule. I know where I'm going with this, though, so it will be finished.
> 
> Many, many thanks go to chiaroscuroverse for beta'ing this and listening to my raving and plotting. Thanks also go tinknevertalks to her encouragement and sympathetic ear to my wild ideas and my needing to talk things over to figure them out. This probably wouldn't be happening without either of you. <3

Rose shut her eyes against the golden light filling the console room, against the way her throat closed up. He was going to change again. He was going to change and she was going fall in love with another man, again, fall in love and spend years at his side pining for someone so close and yet still out of her reach. He’d already said without so many words he couldn’t love a human that way. It didn’t matter; she knew she would always love him just the same.

Then the quiet roar died down and she opened her eyes. “You’re a woman?”

A slow, delighted grin spread across the Doctor’s face. “Yes, I am! Oh, brilliant! But tell me I’m ginger this time.”

Heart pounding, Rose bit her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to quell the shocked laughter bubbling up. “No. But you must’ve really missed the blond hair.” She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

“I haven’t got the curls again, have I?” she muttered, even as she reached up to pat at the top of her head. “Those were a pain in the arse.”

“No, Doctor,” Rose said gently. “Mine.” She combed her fingers through the ends of her hair, as of recently its natural dark brown for the first time since she was twelve. “Back when I had it a bit shorter, the second regeneration I was traveling with you?”

“Oh,” the Doctor breathed, and Rose faintly wondered if that was the beginning of a blush tingeing her cheeks.

Then the TARDIS lurched, falling onto its side, sending both of them tumbling.

“Blast!” The Doctor stood unsteadily, clinging to the floor grating, and reached for the console. “Come on, girl, I’m sorry, didn’t have much of a choice there. I’ll set you down —”

Another jerk, and the TARDIS shuddered, bolts in the large support beams beginning to rattle loose.

“Doctor…” Pulling herself up, Rose reached for the console, to try to stabilize their exit from the Vortex and increase the internal magnetic cohesion. The Doctor was already there, adjusting the exit vector and dimensional folding factor. Rose was about to activate the decelerator when the console burst into flame.

She yanked her hand back. “God, what did you do?!”

“I’m not particularly fond of invoking deities, thank you very much.” The Doctor tossed her a sidelong glance as she pulled off her now-too-large suit coat and attempted to smother the fire. Flames licked around the edges of the fabric, then devoured it, leaping higher.

Rose shook her head at the Doctor and grabbed the fire extinguisher, pulling the pin and coating the console in thick white foam.

Still on its side, the TARDIS began to slowly roll. Rose and the Doctor floated into the air as the gravity shut down. The foam covering the console quickly hardened, the thick white crust beginning to faintly glow as the light in the room flickered and dimmed.

“I suppose we won’t be steering any more.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh, wryly. “You think? Doctor, you’ve got to stop regenerating in here.”

“I couldn’t exactly help it!” She looked mildly offended.

“Don’t you have a regeneration room or something?” Rose grabbed onto one of the support beams, to keep herself from drifting about. The section she touched broke away in her hand. “Doctor — this isn’t supposed to happen, is it?” She held up the rafter piece.

“No, definitely not.” The Doctor twisted about to push herself down the time rotor, and pulled one of the displays around so she could look at it. A grimace twisted her features, and she ran a hand along the casing. “I’m sorry, girl.”

The ship heaved a longsuffering sigh.

“Internal cohesion and coral density are sinking. We’re going to have to land and let the TARDIS rest for a bit.”

Rose steadied herself with a hand on the time rotor as well, looking down at the Doctor. “Where are we headed?”

“Ah… Vhampre Four, in the year Apple-Six-Six-Five-Point-Two. That’s —” She rubbed the back of her neck, ruffling her hair adorably in the process. “That’s rather bad.”

“Why’s it bad?” Rose heard her own what-did-you-do-this-time tone she’d developed just for the Doctor.

“Small incident, a while back. Well, it was an innocent mistake, really. But, ah, long story short, they’re not fond of Time Lords, and —” The Doctor pushed off of the time rotor and reached for some device on the ceiling, metal headgear Rose had never seen the Doctor touch before. “All of their systems run off DNA scans, so the moment we set foot on their planet —” She inhaled sharply, and didn’t finish her sentence.

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Well, this thing,” — the Doctor pulled a small, intricate fobwatch from her pocket and slotted it onto the side of the device — “It can disguise me. Puts everything Time Lord into this watch, makes me someone else. Then once the TARDIS has repaired herself, just get me to open the watch and I’ll be back to myself. But there’s a perception filter on it, so I won’t want to open it on my own. That part might be a bit tricky.”  She maneuvered herself underneath the device, pausing for a moment.

“The TARDIS will set everything up, give us a life there. She’ll give you some role in my life, too, and I need you to play along. Don’t — don’t let me push you away.” The Doctor met her eyes for a moment, and Rose caught her breath. “I couldn’t —” She stopped, swallowing, and put on a smile, though Rose saw the fear in her eyes clear as day. “It’ll be all right, yeah?”

Rose nodded, watching as the Doctor fit her head into the device and flipped a switch on the side. Then the screams began.

***

 _I couldn’t bear to lose you again, not after having just found you_ , she was about to say. But Rose’s  _I love you_  was so, so far in the past, despite still being burned into the Doctor’s memory clear as day. They were both different people now.

If it were just her — the only thing strange about thinking of herself as a  _she_  now was how easily it came; she’d been around humans and their hang-ups about gender too long — she might have just tried to lay low on the planet, stayed with one or the other friend from before. Tchariki, for instance, xe had connections.

But there was Rose to consider. So she ignored the warning etched into the side of the Chameleon Arch —  _do not use within first 15 hours after regeneration_  — and turned it on. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor didn't  _ seem _ particularly different. Same blond hair, same whiskey-brown eyes, her skin perhaps a shade paler than before. The flowing blue gown paired with Doc Martens of all things was new, but it wasn't as if she/he — they? — hadn't changed styles before. And she reached for Rose’s hand just like always on a new adventure. The watch, far too heavy for its small size, weighed down Rose’s pocket, along with a sapphire-studded leather collar and silver ring the TARDIS had hung on the door handle. Whatever those were for, Rose couldn't imagine, but she trusted the ship and took them with her like the TARDIS obviously wanted her to.

The sound of suitcase wheels on tarmac immediately grated on her ears as she stepped outside the ship. At her side, the Doctor stumbled.

Heart leaping into her throat — those screams freshly seared into her memory — Rose immediately let go of the suitcase and reached out to steady her. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I'm — I'm fine.” She blinked. “It must be the gravity.”

It was a bit less than Earth’s, Rose guessed, as every easy step felt more like a small skip, but not much less. “Yeah, must be.”

“ _ Svarekha _ ,” — a name? Something the TARDIS wasn’t translating — “I’m such a klutz.” Shaking her head slightly, she offered Rose a closed-lipped, almost shy ( _ utterly adorable _ , a corner of Rose’s mind whispered) smile.

“Seems like it.” Rose offered her a fond grin in return. “Just as long as you don’t go faceplanting on me.”

The Doctor wrinkled her brow, blinking quickly. “Go down on — oh!” Her expression cleared. “Oh, fall down, you mean, physically?” She shook her head slightly, pressing her lips together. “Of course you meant —”

Heat rushed to Rose’s head as she realized. “Oh, no, I just meant — don't hurt yourself.” The Doctor was thinking about — she forced herself to breathe in, her mind skittering away from —  _ that _ , from  _ her and the Doctor _ like _ that. _

The asphalt stretched almost as far as she could see, broken every few meters by spacecraft of every shape and size, illuminated by the large triple moons arcing across the indigo night sky. A veritable rainbow of beings streamed to and fro among them, hippopotamus-like Harajians and the green ooze-lizard Graxxans, pink-and-blue streaks of Flitterflies in the air above and tiny yellow Stuttermice darting amongst feet below. The throng formed a river as it neared the white metal terminal. Beside them in the building's shadow, completely dwarfed, stood the TARDIS, blue marred by black charring, one window cracked. The ship seemed to slump against the wall behind her, utterly drained. Rose resisted the urge to reach out, to caress her casing.  _ Get well soon. _

The Doctor gently squeezed her hand. “Shall we?”

Why would the Doctor think of them, together, doing — Rose shook her head to clear it, took in the Doctor’s gesture towards the terminal, and smiled. “Yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened and she stared at Rose’s mouth for a split second, before lowering her gaze, another of those coy, closed-lipped smiles hovering on her lips. Gently, she knocked her shoulder into Rose’s. “I would say at least wait until we get to the flat, but I suppose turnabout is fair play,” she murmured.

_ What was that about? _ But then Rose found her attention entirely occupied keeping a firm grip on the suitcase and on the Doctor's hand as the Doctor led them on a weaving course through the throng to the terminal.

The hubbub died down almost immediately as they passed through the large double doors, the relative silence inside seeming almost loud after the bustle of the landing area. Humans — or human-like aliens, anyways — mingled among the arrivals here, one or two talking with every small group of off-world beings, sometimes one-on-one.

The Doctor immediately tugged her towards the far end of the hall, though, towards one of the two exits, her fingers curling firmly over Rose’s hand. In the doorless doorway she stopped, allowing a blue light to flash over them. “Jane Haraya and unknown alien entity. You are: on time, for your registration appointment,” a mechanical voice announced. “Please be seated, and your assigned immigration representative will be with you shortly.”

The waiting room was nearly silent, a sense of quiet nervousness hovering in the air. Those who did talk kept their voices low, speaking solely with the person next to them. There were obvious pairs, now, one pale-skinned human-looking one and one, or perhaps two, more obviously alien to the planet. An older man held an iridescent Nnniran flying fish on his lap. Rose and the Doctor found seats beside a young couple, one bouncing a tiny Raxacoricofallapatorian on his knee, as the other played a clumsy clapping game with it. Beside them, clinging to the hand of an elderly woman, a teenager with a gold pendant conspicuous in the middle of his bare chest sat beside a suit-clad man of severe features and indeterminate middle age.

“It'll be all right, grandmère,” the boy said. “Doruxon will look after us.”

“Of course I will,” the man muttered, almost offhandedly, but he glanced at the boy, something Rose generously wanted to call affection flashing in his eyes.

The Doctor — Jane, apparently — looked over at them, her gaze lingering for a moment on the faint bruise on the boy’s neck before she deliberately looked away again.

The man shot her a brief glare, skimmed his gaze over Rose in way that left her feeling assessed and dismissed, and turned back to the boy and his grandmother. “Of course I'll care for you, Madame L’Agneu. Anything for Pierre. We've already set up a room for you, and if it is not to your liking you can make any changes you wish.”

The woman frowned, briefly. “ _ Le timbre de sa voix ne me donne pas trop de confiance. _ ”

Not being able to understand someone was something Rose hadn't experienced in too long, and confusion set her heart pounding. With the TARDIS, that only happened when —

The Doctor tugged on her hand, rising and tilting her head towards the opposite end of the room, where a Catkind stood with one paw extended. “Jane Haraya,” he purred the ‘r,’ “and bondmate?”

Rose nodded and grabbed the handle of the suitcase, standing as well. Whatever a bondmate was.

“Excellent. If you'll follow me, please.”

Bullpens, it seemed, stayed much the same no matter the culture or era: wide open space, subdivided into smaller ones to give the facsimile of privacy, though of course voices floated overhead and harried workers stepped into their colleagues’ “offices” as they felt like it.

The “immigration representative” seemed refreshingly cheery, though, a quiet hum in the back of his throat, his toga-like garment swishing around his ankles with the little spring in his step. Slipping into one of the cubicles, he gestured for them to take their seats in front of the desk. “I love doing couples.”

Rose inhaled sharply, startled, and quite by accident caught the Doctor’s eye. The Doctor — Jane — squeezed her hand and offered her a soft smile.

The calico Catkind smiled, too, quite broadly, pressing his lips together just as the Doctor had. “It always reminds me of when Mariel brought me here. I know it's a lot to take in at first — ey guided me a lot those first few weeks — but you look like the sort who'll feel right at home in no time.”

“Thanks. I hope so,” Rose gave voice to the natural bland response that rose to her lips. The Torchwood instincts she'd thought forgotten were raising their heads again, and she was grateful for them. “What was the most difficult thing for you to get used to?”

“Oh, good question!” He looked positively delighted, and bit his lips between his teeth for a moment. “Probably training myself not to show my teeth when I smile. It was just such a reflex before. But from what I can tell you're quite well-traveled, so I'm sure you're more used to adapting to different customs than I was. This was the first time I’d ever been off my planet.”

“I’m sure —” Rose stuttered over the name — not  _ the Doctor _ . “I'm sure Jane will have to remind me a few times before I get it down, though.” She offered her a hesitant smile, remembering just in time to close her lips. It felt very strange.

A dark-haired, dark-eyed someone — Rose couldn't tell at a glance whether male, female, or other — stopped in the doorway of the cubicle. “Sesko isn't talking your ears off, is he?”

The Catkind shifted in his chair, glancing over at Rose and the Doc — Jane.

Jane shook her head. “Oh, no, he's been quite friendly and helpful so far. And we've only just sat down.”

“He's quite harmless,” they —  _ ey _ , Rose mentally corrected, knowing the TARDIS’ doing when she felt it, with far less finesse than usual — said, with a half-smirk, tossing eir long hair over one shoulder. “But not everyone appreciates his chattiness.”

“Oh, it's fine,” Rose reassured this person whom she suspected was his boss. “He's been quite lovely.”

Ey nodded, slowly. “Good.” Eir gaze traveled over Sesko, lingering at the delicate silver chain-link choker around his neck, until ey met his eyes again. Ey offered him a small smile, the briefest flash of teeth, sharp canines pricking eir bottom lip. “Meet me in the break room when you're finished with them, please, darling.”

He grinned back at em, full-on, showing surprisingly sharp teeth. “Of course.”

“May your stay here be all you might desire.” Ey bowed slightly towards Rose and the Doctor, and ducked back out.

Fighting the urge to stare after em, Rose focused back on Sesko. “Was that — who was that?”

He bit his lips between his teeth again, in an effort to contain his grin. “That was Mariel, my bondmate. Almost four years, now.”

“But sh — your spouse is also your boss? That's not —”  _ Weird? _ she was going to ask, and then thought the better of it. “Definitely not what I'm used to.”

He nodded. “Oh, it's quite common here, actually. In fact, it's far more rare for an offworlder to be employed by someone who  _ isn't _ their sponsor.”

“Their… sponsor.” Rose thought back to the teenager and his grandmother in the waiting room. “Is that always a family member?”

“No, not always.” He tapped at the touchscreen built into the slanted desk surface. “The more permanent ones generally are, but for shorter visits it might be a business partner, or even a perfect stranger who took pity on a tourist  who came here blind.”

“Does that happen often?” Rose glanced over at the Doctor, who seemed strangely quiet, tapping her fingers on her knee. Right, it wasn't the Doctor, and she probably — hopefully — knew all about how this place worked.

“People coming here blind? Oh yes — ask any of the port guards who deal with irate would-be sightseers every day. And then more often than not they then fall prey to a less-than-ideal sort of sponsoring guide. Really, there are many excellent,  _ reputable _ guided tours they might take if they just bothered to inform themselves about their destination beforehand.” He let out a small sigh and swiveled an upright screen around to face them; it displayed something Rose easily recognized as a digital form. “All right, Jane Haraya, I've pulled your info from the database, but I'll need you to fill in the part about — oh, silly me, I didn't ask your name before.”

“My name’s Rose,” she said. “Rose Tyler. My middle name’s Marion, if you need that, too.”

The Doctor unlaced their fingers to lay her hand on Rose’s arm, leaning in to murmur quietly, “Family names aren't exactly done here anymore. It's considered pretentious.” A brief expression of confusion flit across her face. “I thought I already said that.”

“Right, slipped my mind.” Slight unease crept over her. “But, I mean, it's my name. Rose Tyler.”

Sesko cleared his throat tactfully. “You can shorten your name into a nickname if you wish, for everyday use — as I've noticed you already do for your bondmate. I just need to know how to put it into the official system.”

“Rose Tyler, then.”

“Like so?”  _ Rouz’t’aila _ appeared on the form.

She grimaced. “No, not —” The letters flickered and changed before her eyes, first fading into symbols completely alien to her, and then twisting into  _ Rose Tyler _ . “I —” she exhaled, and decided to concede on that point. “Actually, yeah, that's fine.”

“Fine?” He cocked his head slightly, fingers hovering above his console.

“It's just, you know.” She offered him a small, awkward smile. “Different writing system and all.”

He gave a small noise of understanding.

Rose briefly noted that the Doctor’s name was all one word, too:  _ J’aen’haraya _ .

“Date and place of birth?” Unease rose suddenly, tightening her throat. On instinct, she looked to the Doctor.

J’aen’haraya brushed her thumb over the inside of her wrist, the gentle touch shockingly sensitizing. Rose drew in a sharp breath. “Apple-Six-Four-Three-Point-Four-Nine, on Earth,” the Doctor filled in for her.

“Earth?” Sesko looked Rose over once again, appraisingly. “You're very far from home, Rose Tyler.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, swallowing. “But it just means every day’s an adventure.” She couldn't help looking at the Doctor again, meeting her eyes, grinning as the Doctor smiled back, until the Doctor’s — J’aen’s — eyes lingered on her mouth, lashes fluttering.

Abruptly Rose remembered, and closed her mouth again. “Ehm, if you don't mind my asking,” she said as she turned back to Sesko, “why don't people smile here?”

He cleared his throat again, catching the Doctor's eye, something vaguely embarrassed in the way the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. The Doctor leaned in again, her head ducked so her hair fell in partially in her face. “Showing one’s teeth, it's… rather suggestive.”

_ Oh. _

Confusion swirled in the Doctor’s eyes as she drew back slightly, to look at Rose. “I could have sworn I told you…” Then she frowned. “Perhaps I didn't. I don't know why I wouldn't have, but I don't recall… I-I'm sorry, if I haven't.”

She looked utterly lost. Rose laid her other hand over the Doctor's on her arm, and gently squeezed her fingers. “It's all right. I'm just — forgetful sometimes. We can sit down afterwards and have a chat, all right?”

The Doctor nodded.

A short pause, and then Sesko spoke again over the background murmur. “May I ask after your pronouns? It's a purely voluntary question, but it helps us to know how to refer to you. Otherwise all official documents will use the default gender-neutral ‘ey.’”

“Pronouns? Oh.” It had been a while since she’d visited a planet where gender was an option. “She, please.”

He nodded, and with a few swiping gestures he looked to the Doctor. “Will she be living at your address for the entirety of her stay here?”

The Doctor glanced at Rose with a slight smile, some sort of reassurance for both of them. “Yes, of course.”

He ticked a box, and his next question came rapid-fire, again addressed towards the Doctor. “Will Rose Tyler be in your employ as well? Or is she here purely in the capacity of an intimate companion?”

_ Intimate companion _ … that was a good way to describe her relationship with the Doctor. It just hadn’t always been quite as intimate as Rose might have liked for it to be.

The Doctor looked at Rose. “We hadn't really talked about work yet… Right now there aren't any such arrangements, though.”

“No, there aren't.” Rose shook her head. She didn’t even know what this not-Doctor did for a living here...

Sesko nodded. “As with all of the other information on this form, please notify the Immigrations Office immediately should the status of Rose Tyler change in any way.”

“Of course.” J’aen’haraya nodded in the eager acquiescence of a law-abiding citizen (or the Doctor, who usually only gave the semblance of abiding by the law until it suited him — her — to break it).

“Does she have any other independent source of income?” His fingers hovered expectantly over the screen.

“No, I don't,” Rose said, as the Doctor shook her head.

He nodded. “You will therefore take it upon yourself, as her sponsor, to provide for Rose Tyler materially, so that she will not become a burden to the state?” He was reading off of something, the words rote and a bit hasty.

The Doctor nodded. “Yes.” It was quick, without hesitation.

Rose tried not to feel insulted that they talked past her, tried not to be perturbed that she was, in essence, completely dependent on someone she barely knew. It wasn't as if it hadn't happened before, when she spilled her thoughts to a blue woman on a space station what felt like five lifetimes ago.

“You, J’aen’haraya, also take responsibility to educate Rose Tyler on our laws and customs and see that they are adhered to?”

“Yes.” The Doctor nodded again.

Sesko passed a small, white plastic square across the desk. “This chip contains the complete code of law, as well as a compendium of general vhampiiri and region-specific customs, to use as a reference should you need one.”

The Doctor nodded, and slid it towards Rose. “Mind putting it in your pocket, love?”

Rose nearly didn’t notice the endearment, then struggled to keep her tone even once she did. “‘Course not.” The chip she placed in one of the smaller zippered pockets of her jacket.

“You, J’aen’haraya, are also aware you will be held indirectly responsible for any debts or crimes Rose Tyler allows herself to become guilty of, and owe any restitution Rose Tyler is not capable of herself providing?”

Rose suppressed a grimace. They’d been to planets with prejudices, slavery, and caste systems before, she and the Doctor, and none of them Rose had particularly liked. This sounded, for all intents and purposes, like another of those.

“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed again.

“Rose Tyler, you are amenable to being sponsored by J’aen’haraya, and you pledge to heed her guidance in public affairs, and fulfill the terms of any further agreement or contract between the two of you?”

Rose swallowed, and cleared her throat. “Yeah, ah, yes, I do so pledge.”

“Witnessed by myself, Sesko.” He held his paw to the desk for a moment, and something remarkably similar to a bar code appeared on the form.

“For how long should this sponsorship last?” Sesko’s tone had returned to the conversational, though still politely professional. “Indefinitely, until voluntarily terminated?”

“Yes.” It was less a confirmation than a declaration, and the Doctor flexed her fingers curled around Rose's forearm. Rose wasn't sure whether she ought to take comfort in that small, possessive gesture, but she did.

Sesko smiled again. “Excellent, then, J’aen’haraya, I just need your confirmation.” He gestured to a small scanner just large enough to fit one, maybe two fingers on. “And do you want to use a synthetic marker, or would you prefer to provide one the old way?”

The Doctor — J’aen’haraya — set her thumb to the scanner, and after a moment it let out a lyrical trill of confirmation. She bit her lip, and Rose glimpsed a set of elongated canines that left bright red pinpricks. “The old way, please.”

Something in his gaze lit up. “I thought you might. Right, then.” The screen went dark, and Sesko stood. “If you'll come with me.”

Rose grabbed the suitcase and followed as he led them through the bullpen and down a corridor. White walls reminded her of hospitals — more to the point, actually, of her Torchwood — and the Doctor’s hand never left her wrist.

“It's more common than you might think that people — couples, too — want to use synthetic markers. It seems to be all the rage for vhampiiri to pretend themselves above their instincts now. I, myself, find the traditional way far more personal, though. Intimate, if you will. When it came time to renew Mariel’s sponsorship of me, ey made a point of giving me new, non-synthetic markers.” He touched the silver chain around his neck, almost unconsciously; Rose noticed he also sported a matching, unassuming silver ring.

“These... markers... They say who is sponsoring you?” At least it wasn't a tattoo, or a compulsory branding.

Sesko glanced at them, a slight furrow in his brow. “Yes, and they allow you to function here, activate devices, make transactions, access your accommodations, use public transit, so forth and so on. Everything runs off of vhampiiri DNA recognition — or, since you don't yet have enough for the system to recognize, DNA offered by your sponsor plus a distinguishing marker.” His gaze lingered on the Doctor. “I'll leave it to your sponsor to elaborate on the details. She'll also be the one setting any and all of your access privileges and parameters.”

The Doctor met his gaze for a moment, then ducked her head at the not-quite-accusation there. “I could have — I could have sworn you knew…” A little helplessly, she looked to Rose, her grip on Rose’s wrist tightening to borderline painful.

“I — I'm sorry, love.” If she were honest, Rose found very little surprise at how easily the endearment fell from her lips. “I must’ve been half asleep when you explained all of this to me on the shuttle trip. I do remember you said everything ran off of DNA scans, I just didn't get all the particulars.”  _ There was sort of a crash to deal with _ , she didn't add. But making mistakes, bungling customs, and sometimes looking like a right fool to others were all part and parcel of traveling with the Doctor.

Sesko stopped, and cleared his throat. “Your request for an appointment stated you would be providing the  _ zharekshi _ . I trust that hasn't changed?”

“Yes, of course.” The Doctor glanced at Rose almost expectantly.

It took a moment, in which Rose was utterly confused, and then she suddenly understood the term: something akin to “mark-bearers.”

“Yeah, we've got them.” Rose stopped, as well, gently, removing the Doctor’s hand from her wrist to pull the necklace and ring from her pocket. It was some comfort, to know the TARDIS had foreseen and provided for this, too. The collar was black leather, with square sapphires — Rose assumed — in silver settings, large enough to be noticeable but small enough not to be ostentatious, with a silver buckle. The ring was a silver band, engraved in a script Rose couldn't read but recognized from her name before, also inlaid with tiny gems the exact hue of the TARDIS.

She held the accessories out to Sesko. “You mean these, right?”

He visibly relaxed, his ears perking up. “Yes, precisely. Oh, those are gorgeous! Did you pick them out together?”

“Of course we did.” Rose glanced at the Doctor, who offered her a broad, quiet smile. Carefully, she replaced the  _ zharekshi _ in her pocket, and laced her fingers through the Doctor’s, tilting her head to indicate down the hall. “Shall we?”

“Indeed.” The Doctor squeezed her fingers gently.

“Mariel chose mine for me.” He let out a happy sigh as he fingered his necklace again; Rose was nearly certain the gesture was completely subconscious. “But ey know me well. It's what I would have picked for myself, too.”

“I wanted Rose to feel like she had a say. She always been… very independent. She knows her own mind.” There was pride in that, and so much of the Doctor Rose couldn't help but grin. J’aen’haraya looked pointedly away, fighting to keep from breaking into a smile herself, and Rose pressed her lips together as she remembered.

Sesko flicked his tail, an amused glint in his eye as he gestured to an open doorway, the first they’d come across among the many doors lining the hall. “In here, if you please.”

Prominent dental-chair-style individual seating and gleaming metal furnishings proclaimed the room some sort of laboratory. A slight, redheaded girl — ey barely looked eighteen — lifted one hand in a greeting. “Be right with you!”

“Another Graxxan case?” Sesko asked, in the tone of someone who already knew the answer.

“Yep.” The technician drew the word out into three syllables, tapped eir console with a flourish, and stood. “This system was  _ not _ set up for their biology. Hi, you can set your stuff down by the door, and I'll be right with you.”

“I happen to like these two, so do try to be nice to them.” Arching his eyebrows at em, Sesko touched a thumbpad beside the doorway. The door slid from the wall, and the latch  _ click _ ed audibly, sealing them inside the laboratory.

Heart speeding up, Rose tried not to make too much of it as she situated the suitcase out of the way. For the moment, she hung back, away from the chairs. Avoiding laboratories whenever possible had become a deeply-ingrained habit.

“When am I ever not nice?” As if to punctuate this, the technician picked up a small handheld device, and activated it, looking it over as multiple needles extended and retracted again.

The Doctor drew her fingers over Rose’s wrist, deliberately, to get her attention. “Take off your jacket, too. Ey'll be drawing blood — artificially, purely for DNA recording purposes and to scan for diseases.”

“Right.” Reluctantly, Rose shed her jacket and folded it atop their luggage. The Doctor laced their fingers together and tugged her towards the chairs, and Rose followed.

“You enjoy your job far too much, and we both know it.” Sesko leaned against the door, folding his arms across his chest, his tail flicking lazily.

“What’s that old saying Mariel’s so fond of? Do what you love and it'll never feel like work?” Ey donned a pair of thin gloves, and for a moment Rose expected em to flash a smile. “If you could please sit down, and set your arms up on the armrests.” Ey gestured towards the chairs.

Gingerly, Rose settled herself in. The chair seemed constructed to purposely expose the inner elbow and forearm, and while it made sense for the intended purpose, it left Rose feeling vulnerable in a way she couldn't quite pin down.

“You look at least part human, Rose Tyler, is that correct? Do you know what other species make up your genealogy?”

A disdainful “ _ they… mingled _ ” flashed across her memory, and Rose bit her lip. “I’m just human, actually. Full human.”

The technician stopped and stared at her, eir tongue darting over eir bottom lip. “Wow. I'd heard they still existed, but I never thought I'd run across one myself.” Ey turned to the Doctor, a slight rasp to eir voice. “Is she as good as they say?”

“ _ Rajirreh _ !” Sesko laid his ears back, shaking his head. “That's nothing you ask someone!”

“Everyone’s thinking it! Or at least they will be.” Ey wrinkled eir nose, then sighed. “Sorry. That was… none of my business. Though you could probably make a fortune just by bleeding her.” Ey glanced at the Doctor as ey roughly swiped a wet, disposable towel — likely disinfectant — over the inside of Rose’s elbow, and flicked at the vein. Eir nails were sharp, and Rose grimaced.

“Bleeding me? I beg your pardon.” Startled, Rose bit her teeth together for a moment, to prevent any further indignant words from slipping out of her mouth. She glanced between the Doctor and the technician.  “Why would anyone want my blood?”

The Doctor watched the technician’s every little move now with the corners of her mouth turned down, with creases in her forehead, with brows drawn together and the storm Rose knew too well flashing faintly in her eyes. 

The technician avoided looking at the Doctor, and chose eir words carefully as ey set two small vials into the device, one full and one empty. “Human blood is considered a delicacy, the less diluted the better. They say pureblood human is third only to Harajian and Gorukha in taste, but of course it's the most difficult to get ahold of due to humans interbreeding with other species, so the real thing fetches quite a high price on the open market.”

Blinking, swallowing, Rose forced herself to breathe evenly through  _ that _ revelation. Still, the Doctor — J’aen’haraya — glanced at her, wrinkling her brow and tightening her grip on Rose’s fingers.

“Rose is my bondmate, and I care for her for far more than her blood.” Her tone was cold, and the first frisson of alarm flashed up Rose’s spine. It wasn't the Doctor, that much was slowly becoming crystal clear, and that left her feeling more unmoored than anything else in years. 

“Of course.” The technician nodded, inhaling slowly. “I didn’t intend to imply otherwise. Make a fist for me, please, Rose Tyler.”

Rose obeyed, clenching and releasing her fist several times. She'd had blood drawn often enough — after every other mission at Torchwood — to know the drill by now.

“I think I'd like someone else to perform this procedure.” J’aen’haraya curled her lip, not quite enough to show her teeth, but only just.

The technician stilled, and turned to look at the Doctor. “The alien biological registration procedure has to be performed by a recognized,  _ vhampiiri _ ,” she stressed the word slightly, “government technician. You’re certainly welcome to wait until someone else becomes free, but that will likely take several hours. I apologize for my previous errant comment, and I assure you I am nothing but professional in handling my cases and all they entrust to me.” She straightened her shoulders. “My record is spotless, should you care to examine it.”

Sesko rubbed his forehead, head bowed, ears laid flat.

Rose reached out and laid a hand on J’aen’haraya’s forearm. “It's all right, yeah? I just want to get this over with.”

J’aen blinked, and finally exhaled slowly. “As you wish.” She offered the technician a curt nod.

Silently, ey set the device to Rose’s elbow. She expected a sharp prick, _ something _ , but surprisingly she felt neither numbness nor pain. A few seconds later it was removed, and the technician offered a piece of damp gauze to press to the dot of blood welling up.

With a glance at the Doctor — J’aen’haraya, whose narrowed eyes darted between the tech and where Rose pressed the gauze to her elbow — the technician swallowed, and turned to set the device into the console. Pulling off eir gloves, ey held eir hand against a scanner for a moment, and that same short, lyrical trill of confirmation sounded. “Biomaterial signature registered to: Rose Tyler, under care of: J’aen’haraya, confirmation required, performed by: Rajirreh, witnessed by: witness required. Sample is free from class three pathogens.”

Sesko shifted over towards the console, quiet under the thick tension filling the room, and set his forepaw to the scanner. “Witnessed by, Sesko, under care of: Mariel.”

He gestured for the Doctor — J’aen’haraya — to approach. With a brief brush of her thumb over Rose’s skin, she unlaced their fingers and moved to likewise set her hand on the scanner.

“Biomaterial signature registration completed.”

The technician lifted the device from its place on the console, removed the vial of blood — eir movements almost exaggeratedly careful — and slipped it into a smaller device beside the workstation. Immediately a flame blazed up within the box. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe a little more easily as the vial melted and its contents crumbled to ash.

“Is that it?” Rose checked beneath the gauze to see if she was still bleeding; startlingly, it looked and felt as if the skin had never been broken. She re-examined the damp piece of gauze carefully, wondering what miracle solution they'd dunked it in. Just to be safe, though, she replaced it on her elbow and pressed it loosely there for a little longer.

“No.” The technician glanced at the Doctor — J’aen — still keeping a careful distance from either her or Rose. “I need —”

“The  _ zharekshi _ , yes,” J’aen’haraya interrupted em, sharply. With a glance at Rose, she gestured towards Rose’s jacket. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course.” Her throat closed up as she remembered the watch in that same pocket, but the Doctor didn't even remark on its presence as she drew the jewelry out and zipped the pocket back up.

A little hesitantly, the technician held out a hand. “I need to check the seals.”

With a glance at Rose, J’aen swallowed, then handed over the choker and the ring. Gingerly, the technician looked them over, then set them atop eir console, gem-side-down. “Blank  _ zharekshi _ confirmed. Seals intact and without signs of tampering,” the computer intoned.

The technician pulled on a new set of thin gloves, and reached for another of the handheld biopsy devices. “You wanted to do this the old way, did you not?”

“A syringe, please.” The Doctor — J’aen’haraya — held out her forearm, gazing steadily at the technician. “I want to see.”

“You realize —” ey began gently.

“That it's more painful that way, yes.” J’aen’haraya exhaled. “I’m well aware.”

The technician arched her eyebrows, but silently retrieved the syringe — really little more than a capped needle — from a drawer and inserted one of the glass tubes, opening towards the needle, electronic interface plug on the opposite end. “If you would please sit down.” She gestured towards the chair.

J’aen’haraya settled herself into it, her gaze still glued to the tehnician, though she reached her other hand out towards Rose. Rose laced their fingers together, inhaling slowly and trying to block out all the other times the Doctor had unwillingly been on the wrong end of the needle. Metal slid underneath skin, the Doctor’s grip tightening on her fingers, and deep red began to fill the vial.

“Sesko, if you could get marker additive number fifty-two from the lower left cabinet?” the technician requested quietly, as she drew the needle out.

“Sure.” He kept his voice low, too, his steps soft, almost a tip-toe as he crossed the room.

Rose's breath came heavy under the new sort of quiet creeping over them all now, not the weight of agitated tension but of significance; even she could feel it just beneath her skin, slowing her heartbeat and weighing down the marrow of her bones.

The technician offered J’aen gauze, which, after a moment of seeming to war with herself, she took. Ey ducked eir head to her, so briefly and barely Rose almost didn't catch it. The corners of J’aen’s mouth tilted faintly up, a sort of fierce satisfaction in the set of her shoulders.

The needle was broken off, tossed into a plastic bin, and the quarter-full vial was set atop the console. Rose stood, crumpling her own piece of gauze in her fist and stepping closer to the workstation to watch what was being done, the Doctor at her side.

“Biomaterial confirmed to belong to: J’aen’haraya.” The mechanical voice was overly loud, jarring. “Please add additional markers.”

The technician took the small bottle from Sesko, uncapped the vial, and let exactly thirteen drops fall. The neon blue of the additive swirled with burgundy, until it finally evened out to violet.

“DNA signature designated: J’aen’haraya-five-two-null-null. Currently unregistered. Please confirm registration to: Rose Tyler. Requires confirmation from: J’aen’haraya, and two additional witnesses.”

Again, they took turns setting their hands to the scanner. Resentment reared its head again, but Rose bit her tongue, and swallowed the indignant words rising in her throat. Computers were, above all, stubborn gits.

“Preparing  _ zharekshi _ . Please wait.” Almost as one, the technician and Sesko stepped back, but the Doctor — J’aen’haraya — stayed. Almost idly, she passed her own gauze to the technician. Ey nodded, and held a hand out for Rose’s too; she gave it to em with a quick smile of thanks.

Clamps held both the necklace and ring in place as thin needles extended to touch the surface of the gemstones. The vial of violet solution drained slowly, and Rose nearly believed herself to see a faint flash of purple beneath silver. Finally, blue-black light flashed across them.

“ _ Zharekshi _ processing complete.” The mechanical voice took on a more gentle, warmer tone. “Please ensure the alien wears them at all times.”

It was J’aen who moved to pick up the necklace, holding it out towards Rose. “May I?”

“I — yeah, sure.” It was really more of a collar, Rose admitted to herself, as she held her hair out of the way. The Doctor’s fingers brushed over the nape of her neck, then the soft, supple leather and the cool metal of the buckle. Rose forced herself to breathe normally, as the technician did something-or-other at eir console again. The choker wasn't constricting, but something so heavy, so close around her neck, it was still… “unfamiliar” was the kindest way to put it. She swallowed, almost involuntarily.

The Doctor held the ring between her fingers, brushing her thumb over the inscription. “ _ Lierej’t’kien, en f’nie iy core, _ Rose,” she said softly, smiling, and Rose’s blood ran cold, despite the obvious affection behind the foreign words. “Your left hand, isn't it? The human tradition?”

_ “I need you to play along,” _ the Doctor had said. So Rose swallowed, blinking against the tears springing to her eyes, and nodded dumbly.

Slowly, carefully, J’aen’haraya slid the ring onto Rose’s left ring finger, the metal almost a shock against her skin. Slowly, almost hesitantly, J’aen laced their fingers together, leaning in close. “Are you all right?” she whispered, holding Rose’s gaze.

It wasn’t a laugh, or a cry, but some mixture of both that forced its way from Rose's throat. Nodding, she did her best to smile.

J’aen smiled, too, her tongue darting over her lower lip, and then she closed the space between them, brushing her lips over Rose’s, featherlight. An instant, a quick gasp — from whom, Rose couldn’t guess — and then she kissed her again, a touch more firmly, lingering for a moment. Sheer shock held Rose motionless, overwhelming every other sensation.

Drawing back, J’aen sought her gaze, brow furrowed, and Rose remembered to breathe again.

Sesko grinned, like a calico Cheshire Cat, without the teeth. “Welcome to Vhampre Four, Rose Tyler.”

***

J’aen couldn't help but run her thumb over the ring on Rose’s finger, cup her neck and feel the leather and crystal beneath her fingers. Rose Tyler — this precious, precious girl — was hers: these were proof, and she couldn't help but reassure herself they were real.  _ Mine _ .

She'd never wanted to be one of those possessive vhampiiri, but her fangs were pricking her bottom lip, and she ran a finger along the edge of the collar again. To taste Rose’s blood again, to taste only herself in it, to watch as Rose shuddered under her tongue and smiled lazily, giddily, tucking her tongue between her teeth in that way that always made J’aen’s knees weak... It was almost an ache, but all that would have to wait, a little longer.

And one thing itched at the back of her mind, marred an otherwise perfect moment: why had Rose frozen beneath her kiss?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has taken a long time. I've been fiddling with it for a while, but I figured it was time to post and move on. I don't want to leave you all hanging for too long. :)
> 
> Again, many many thanks go to my beta chiaroscuroverse for encouraging me and helping me refine this as well as the bigger picture.

One foot in front of the other.  _ The Doctor’s lips on hers, soft and offering, eager but not demanding, everything a first kiss should be _ … A ramp, and Rose had to tighten her grip to keep the suitcase from rolling into the people ahead of them. How was this thing so bloody heavy?  _ The Doctor’s fingers on her neck, fastening a collar like one would on a new dog, complete with invisible tags. _ The Doctor’s palm beneath hers as the line for customs snaked through half the hall, writhing with irritated bustle as travelers fidgeted and agents scanned luggage, some mixture of exhaustion and exasperation stamped in the slump of shoulders and the tapping of toes. She and J’aen’haraya joined the back.  _ “You could probably make a fortune just by bleeding her.” _

“Are you all right?” Gentle, almost careful, pressure on her fingers.

Rose inhaled, and glanced at J’aen. “Not really. It's just — all a bit of a shock, you know?”

J’aen nodded, biting her lips between her teeth. “Take a moment if you need.” Turning to face Rose, she reached out, to lightly touch her shoulder. “I'm sorry that it was all such a surprise. I should have — I had thought I had better prepared you.”

Rose shook her head. “‘S not your fault.” It really wasn't, not J’aen’haraya’s. “Like I said, I must’ve dozed off on the shuttle while you were explaining it all.”

J’aen wrinkled her brow, but finally nodded slowly.

Rose took a deep breath, tightened and relaxed her grip on the suitcase. “Have they got chips here?”

“Of course.” J’aen shook her head slightly at Rose. “Any restaurant that caters to non-vhampiiri will offer them, and Kharavzed is a large city with significant offworlder population. And more and more places are offering at least one solid food option, even if they don't specifically cater to offworlders.”

“Solid food. Right.” Rose swallowed. “Do they really bleed people for food here?”

“Not without their consent, of course.” J’aen stepped a little closer, brushing her thumb over the ring again. “And never enough to cause harm. But it's not as if you can't make more.”

The sheer nonchalance there made Rose blink. Swallowing, she asked slowly, “But you're not going to bleed me, are you?”

“Of course not!” J’aen’s expression darkened, and her fingers tightened around Rose’s. “Don't pay any attention to what that  _ xiranu _ said.”

“Right.” A deep breath. “I just needed to hear it from you, that's all.” She offered J’aen a smile she didn't feel.

“Is there anything else you need to hear from me?” J’aen’haraya seemed more tactile even than the Doctor, as she smoothed several strands of Rose's hair between her fingers.

The Doctor’s parting words ran through her mind:  _ “Don’t let me push you away.” _ There hardly seemed to be any danger of that, but the request tumbled over Rose’s lips nonetheless: “Just promise me you won't leave me on my own.”

“I would never, Rose. I promise.” Shaking her head, she searched Rose’s face. “What's brought this on?”

Rose looked around. She couldn't help but notice the overwhelming majority of people looked to be  _ vhampiiri _ — and of those who weren't, their jewelry seemed to leap out at her, with far more sinister connotations now. “It's hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to me, but I guess it unsettled me, that whole thing back there.” Resentment already tinged her voice. She twisted to glance back at the doorway they’d come through from the laboratory area, a mere gap in the white metallic expanse of the terminal. “I'm not exactly used to feeling like… I don’t know, like a pet, or something less than a person.”

The Doctor must have consciously avoided planets like this before, she realized, avoided ones where Rose would be the one not taken seriously instead of him-them. Rose wasn't sure whether to be grateful, or to wish she'd been a little better prepared.

J’aen grimaced. “That's not how people view offworlders here, I promise. It's…” She sighed. “It's complicated, but the system…  It’s not perfect, but it works and it’s been this way for a long while. I’m sure you know how resistant to change some people can be.”

“Hey, watch what you're telling em.” The woman standing in front of them turned and glowered, the ugly expression somehow fitting her sharp features and floor-length fur coat. “Ey shouldn't be given the wrong impression. We're not backward, or xenophobic. It's for protection, pure and simple — ours and everyone else’s.” The woman’s gaze lingered on the Doctor’s boots and ey sniffed audibly.

Tensing as she turned, J’aen curled her lip, in a gesture that was almost a snarl. “I'll thank you to let  _ me _ take care of educating my own charge.”

With a faint “Hm,” Cruella De Vil lifted eir chin, and looked pointedly away.

“Is everyone here so bloody rude?” Rose snapped.

J’aen exhaled, slowly, not quite a hiss. “I'm sorry, Rose, you seem to be seeing the worst of the vhampiiri today.” Her gaze clouded. “Unless you meant me, in which case, I apologize. I was just —” She stopped, nibbling her lower lip as she watched Rose.

The line was barely moving, some commotion up at the front about what looked like electronics… Rose shook her head, and found herself unable to lie. It was, in one way, reassuring, how quickly J’aen jumped to her perceived defense, and yet something about the way she did so... “I don't know if I meant you too or not.”

“I apologize, then.” J’aen exhaled, slowly.

“It's all right,” Rose murmured. “But I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know,” she said, searching Rose’s gaze. “But I never want you to feel like you have to, not on your own. Is that all right?”

“‘Course it is.” Rose offered her a wan smile, sudden weariness washing through her. “Don't mind me, I'm rather tired. It's been a long day.” She wasn't actually sure how long it had been — time in the TARDIS was funny like that — but it felt far longer than it likely was. It was all just a bit too much right now, the chaos in the enormous hall, the constant subtle rudeness, the feeling she couldn't shake that everyone, J’aen herself included, saw her as  _ belonging _ to this woman, to someone she barely knew, and no Doctor here to turn to — and if something was really wrong with the TARDIS, or with the Doctor? She let go of the suitcase for a moment, to run her fingers through her hair, as she stared at the Doctor’s hand clasping hers, at that bloody silver ring…

“Would food help? A quiet restaurant, maybe?” Concern was etched into the furrows of J’aen’s brow, as she gently squeezed Rose’s hand. She seemed to be holding herself back, though from what, Rose couldn't tell.

The Doctor’s voice brought her back to herself, for the most part. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

J’aen reached for their suitcase, and tilted her head. “The food court is this way.”

 

It wasn't any quieter than the main hall, really. Aliens of all shapes and sizes occupied tables and stools and benches of varying heights — one wasp-headed, easily eight-foot humanoid waited in front of a table as it raised itself to accommodate their height. The smells assaulted Rose’s senses, Oruko fried stinkbugs and Meltha algae salads and she didn't even want to think about what that that wriggling brown mess might be. Lines snaked across the floor here, too, in front of the order placement automats along one wall, to devolve into a clump around the delivery counter, where several harried-looking vhampiiri ran handheld scanners over the seashells, gold coins, bright pink monopoly money, and everything in between that was handed to them as currency.

J’aen’haraya tugged Rose along a weaving path through the tables, heading for a small doorway on the opposite side. “The Upper Cut,” read the letters hanging on the wall above it, and Rose smiled a bit at the somewhat unfortunate phrasing, “Fine Solid Sustenance, Exquisite Blood, Feeding Booths.” Rose swallowed, and opened her mouth to voice some sort of protest —

“Good night, gentleperson.” The maître d’ at the doorway bowed eir head briefly. “I must advise you that we are not equipped to take foreign currency; payment can be made via biosig only.”

Rose followed J’aen’s gaze as it flicked to the sign beside the doorway proclaiming just that. Still, J’aen smiled. “That won't be a problem.”

“Excellent.” Ey stood a bit straighter, a touch less tension in eir shoulders. “If you might confirm for a —” ey glanced at Rose appraisingly, and she did her best not to bristle — “might I guess a feeding booth?”

Rose didn't miss the way J’aen’s tongue darted out over her bottom lip, the way something Rose wasn't quite sure she wanted to name flared in her gaze. Rose tensed, staring at her not-Doctor, a little stricken — but then J’aen shook her head. “No.” A little smile spread across her lips. “Just a regular table, please.”

The maître d’s eyebrows rose, briefly, but ey simply nodded, changed the reservation, and held out the scanner for J’aen to hold her hand to once more. Once that was done, ey reached for the suitcase — which J’aen handed to em with a gracious nod — and showed them to their table.

It was much quieter here, the conversation of the only other two groups in the place a low murmur. Chandeliers washed the deep red upholstery, dark wood, and white linens in a soft glow. Setting their suitcase beside a table, the maître d’ drew out chairs for both of them, lit the candle on the table, set leather-jacketed menus in front of each, bowed, and retreated.

Rose settled into her chair, watching J’aen. “Bit fancy, isn't it?”

“I thought this would be quieter.” She gazed at Rose, wrinkling her brow. “Would you prefer the food court?”

In the years since the stars had almost gone out, since she'd been traveling with the Doctor again, she’d remembered more and more of that girl from the estate, the person she'd felt most at home as. Still, it wasn’t as if she’d entirely forgotten attending far too many of her parallel-universe dad’s Vitex parties.

Rose shook her head.  “No, this is fine.”

“As you like.” J’aen searched Rose’s expression a moment longer, then opened the menu.

Rose did the same. It was a tablet, more or less, a thin e-ink touchscreen encased in the embossed leather jacket, and offered a dizzying array of choices. For a moment, they were listed in what she was slowly coming to recognize as the  _ vhampiiri _ language, until the symbols twisted into proper English letters. It still didn't help her much; when she selected “Solid Food,” such dishes as “fried rice and Martian maggots,” “sautéed Karnelian squid tentacles with beerfruit,” “Haqqu egg salad (vegetarian),” and “butterroot cobra hood” were suggested to her. They didn't seem to be alphabetized, and some didn't even sound appropriate for human consumption, like the “equine grazing plate” or the “live bacterial soup (contains E. Coli).”

Finally she settled on “curried beef sausage with fried potato strips.” Meat and chips seemed like the closest thing to comfort food she could find, and at least she had some idea of what to expect.

Confirming her selection, she added a small glass of cola to the order, and set the menu down. She very nearly closed the jacket with one finger inside to keep her place in the menu, until the edge of the tablet against her finger reminded her that wasn't actually necessary.

“You've found something?” J’aen offered her a small smile.

“Yeah.” Rosee nodded. “Number Two Hundred Twenty-Four?” 

J’aen glanced at her own menu. “Currywurst and chips?” There was something fond, almost amused in the quirk of her lips.

“Sounds about right, yeah. I couldn't find fish and chips, and I wanted chips.” She shrugged one shoulder, a little halfheartedly.

Seeking out her gaze, J’aen set her menu down as well, and reached one hand across the table, palm up. “I don't —” Something pained, sorrowful crossed her expression, and she swallowed, and tried again. “I want you here with me, but I don't want you to stay where you're not happy. I’m sorry this is all such a shock.” She seemed to be waiting for something, and after a few moments curled her fingers in and drew her hand back. It bit at Rose, as she realized what J’aen had wanted, what Rose hadn’t offered… “I’d — I’d ask for you to stay a little while, see if it's not so bad after at least a couple of days. But — if you want to go back home, to — to —” Confusion clouded her features. “Why can't I remember the name?”

Quickly, Rose reached out and curled her fingers over J’aen’s. “I want to stay with you.” She put force behind the words, as she repeated, “I want to be here with you. Some things will take getting used to, like the whole ‘under care of’ bit and knowing everyone around me wants to drink my blood. But I've handled far worse things. It's not gonna be for that long, anyways.” She hoped.

J’aen laced their fingers together, smiling softly, but with the slight edge of a grimace at the corners of her lips. “Not everyone wants to feed from you. The population of Kharavzed is only about seventy percent  _ vhampiiri _ , and we can't automatically tell how your blood will taste just from being around you. If you had, say, an open wound, that would be another story. But just, now… you might set off a small biological attraction, but no more than that. You don't —” She shook her head, slightly, drawing her brows together as she looked at Rose. “I'm sure I've said this before, but you don't smell entirely human. Something… astral about you… If I didn't know it was biologically impossible according to all science within four thousand lightyears, I'd say you had some star-whale in you, or some other vacuum-dweller.”

“Rift particles,” Rose corrected her automatically, shoving down the lingering resentment at exactly what those particles had put her through.

“Pardon?” J’aen  knit her brows together. “Rift… particles…?”

Rose tried to keep her expression blank as she realized that was really divulging more than she was supposed to know. “It's just — something another alien told me once. A long time ago.” Not so long, really, less than a decade, but so much had happened to her since then.

“Did ey offer any explanation?” J’aen had that look of single-minded concentration, of immersion in a puzzle, the Doctor’s expression when deep in TARDIS repairs, or trying to figure out what was wrong at this particular placetime. “What they were, how you got them, anything like that?”

Rose’s stomach dropped, and she shook her head, looking down at the table, avoiding her gaze. “No, not really, I'm afraid. Something about being near a collapsing wormhole, maybe?”

“That wouldn't usually cause anything like this — like you.” The Doctor’s analytical gaze swept over her, and she did her best to keep from hunching her shoulders instinctively against it.

“It was just a theory of theirs.”

“Hypothesis — and a rather unfounded one at that.” J’aen arched one eyebrow briefly, then squeezed Rose’s fingers between hers. “Would you mind coming into the Zeratec labs at some point? They've got all sorts of advanced equipment here I don't have back home.”

“I didn't really come here to be a test subject.” It was the most diplomatic way she could think of to say she’d rather not.

“Of course not.” J’aen blinked, and glanced at the tablecloth with a sheepish half-smile. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I don’t realize the scientist in me is taking over. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course.” Rose nearly offered her a proper smile, until she remembered, closing her lips and looking away.

A moment’s silence fell between them. The maître d’ escorted another group on a weaving path through the tables, two vhampiiri and a bipedal crocodile-dog hybrid, as far as Rose could guess, the three chattering among themselves, one wagging, scaled dog-tail nearly tipping over a chair.

“Where are they going?” Rose gestured towards the little group, and J’aen turned to look just before they slipped behind a wall screening off another section of the restaurant.

“They’ve booked a feeding booth, I imagine.” J’aen ran her tongue over her upper teeth, small points forming and blurring back into bluntness again.

“But the one looked excited to be — fed on.” Rose fought to keep from showing too much puzzlement, from wrinkling her nose or curling her lip at the thought.

“Why wouldn't ey?” J’aen shook her head slightly, one corner of her mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “I'm happy to remind you just what ey can look forward to.” Her gaze flicked down, just under Rose’s chin, and lingered there for a moment before she met Rose’s eyes again, offering a smile with a flash of teeth.

Cold sparks flashed down Rose’s spine, heat lacing through her stomach and cheeks, as she sucked in a breath of understanding. “I — No, you don't have to.”

J’aen closed her lips, and examined Rose searchingly, again. “Why did it puzzle you ey seemed to be anticipating it?”

Rose scrambled for an answer. “Just — I wasn't sure what it’s like for everyone.” She shook her head. “That and I guess, mammal instinct still telling me being bitten is bad.”

J’aen tilted her head, lowering her lashes, a look that made Rose’s breath come short, though the smile offered was gentle, affectionate rather than predatory. “I suppose we'll just have to keep reminding it, then.”

Rose was spared answering by the arrival of a large, shimmering green cephalopod, quite similar to an octopus but with at least twice as many arms, bearing a platter with one of them and leading a stumbling lamb by a short cord with another. “Currywurst and chips with Nuka-Cola?” The metallic, measured tones emanated from a small voicebox strapped around its — his? its, the TARDIS confirmed — neck? torso? body. “For you?” It held the platter out towards Rose, and she was reassured to see nothing more than a long wurst lying in reddish sauce and sprinkled liberally with yellow curry, alongside a heap of golden, fried-to-perfection chips and what looked like a perfectly normal soda.

“Yeah, that's me, thank you.” Rose nodded, and almost smiled at it, until purple rippled through its skin and she turned to focus on her meal. 

“And the live lamb with amaretto?” It turned to J’aen, curling four of its arms under and around the animal, and lifted it up.

“Yes, thank you.” She allowed the lamb to be set on the table in front of her, its legs folded neatly under it, and it laid its head down too, unnaturally docile, a blue light blinking from some small device embedded at the back of its head. Its coat was shorn close to the skin, pink visible through thin white fuzz, and the wait staff member produced a simple straight razor and a small syringe containing an amber liquid from within a curl of one of its tentacles.

“The neck, gentleperson? Or elsewhere?”

“The neck, please and thank you.” J’aen offered the wait staff member a friendly nod. “In some ways I'm still a bit of a traditionalist.”

“There is no judgement here.” Its voicebox offered little in the way of intonation. With a deft touch, it shaved a short swath of skin on the lamb’s neck, even closer to the skin, with a slight nick at the end Rose was sure was deliberate.

“Doesn't that hurt it?” Even if she understood all of this on some level, she couldn't not say something, though she tried to downplay her quiet horror.

“No, of course not.” One of their attendant's large, unblinking eyes focused on her. “The neurocontroller suppresses any pain.” As it spoke, it smoothly injected the lamb just beside the cut it had made. “Or pleasure, for that matter. Is that all?”

J’aen’s tongue darted out over her lips, her canines prominent points as she eyed her meal. Rose swallowed, and tried not to let her voice crack or hitch. “Yes, thank you.”

“That will be all for me as well.” J’aen didn't look at their attendant as it slithered away.

Glistening blood welled up slowly from the cut; the lamb lay there as quietly still as ever. Bracing one hand on the table, J’aen bent over her meal, her back curving like that of a gargoyle. Rose couldn't look away, in the grip of disquieted fascination. 

But then J’aen stopped, and looked up at Rose. She might have been a wolf standing over its prey, save for the concern that drew her brows together, the small frown tugging at the corners of her lips. “What's the matter, love?”

Rose started, and swallowed. She'd frozen with a chip halfway to her mouth, and, feeling a bit foolish, she set it back down on the plate. “Nothing's the matter.”

Arching her eyebrows, J’aen shot her a searching, skeptical look, one that morphed into disappointment. “I hate knowing you don’t feel you can tell me something. But that's your decision.” She glanced down, adding almost offhandedly. “My contract here is only for six months.” Then she bent over her meal again, her short hair hanging in her face as she lapped up the blood that had begun to trickle over the skin, and finally set her mouth to the cut.

Rose lost most of her appetite, but made herself eat anyways.  _ Yeah, I hate not being able to tell you, too. _

 

_ *** _

Blood spilled over her tongue, rich and delicate and sweet and sharp with the alcohol. She hadn't realized how ravenous she was — her last meal might as well have been days ago. Maybe it was — she couldn't recall having eaten recently, not on the shuttle ride here, not before. Everything before setting foot in the Kharavzed port was fuzzy, static. She knew who she was, J’aen’haraya, nanoengineer, vhampiiri, wife, but any concrete memories... Her temples began to throb.

_ I ought to see a doctor, most likely. _ But if her security clearance was called into question…  _ I’ll go if it doesn't go away soon. _

S’varekha, she wasn't even enjoying her blood. And then the way Rose had looked at her — of course her wife knew what she was and what she ate, and yet Rose had looked upset, afraid. And then to pretend J’aen couldn't read her like an open book by now….

Her heart sank, and she glanced up at Rose again.  _ It's just the culture shock. _ But something told her that was just wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone gets the little reference here, tell me if you've ever played FNV hardcore. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be pretty heavily plott-y in comparison to the previous chapter, consider yourselves forewarned.  
> Many thanks go as always to my beta [chiaroscuroverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscuroverse/pseuds/chiaroscuroverse) and my cheerleader [tinknevertalks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks).

Silently, J’aen offered her hand, palm up, not quite meeting Rose’s eyes. Swallowing, Rose took it, lacing their fingers together, and grabbed the suitcase. A half-eaten plate of chips and a nearly motionless animal lay on the table behind them as they made their way out of the restaurant. Rose tried not to think too hard on it.

The melancholy flutter of J’aen’s eyelashes sent guilt spearing through Rose’s lungs. But she could hardly tell her,  _ You're really someone else, someone who isn't a bloody vampire, and I miss him — her. Both — even if I didn’t really know her yet. _ She knew the Doctor, and that was what counted. Even if it seared to have the man she loved wrenched away from her like that and replaced with someone new, the Doctor remained the Doctor, somehow. She'd been through regeneration once before — but never the Doctor not as hi-herself.

The customs line had shortened by the time they joined it again, moving fluidly now. “What was the hold-up before?”

J’aen glanced at her. “Well, I can hardly know for sure, but my guess would be something like chemistry equipment, DNA samples, the like. Anything that might possibly be used to help commit identity fraud is very strictly controlled. Deadly poisons or weapons might also be an issue, or infection with certain pathogens. There have been terrorist attacks in the past, though relations with other species are largely peaceable now.”

“Terrorist attacks?” Rose shook her head in bewilderment. “What was their agenda?”

J’aen let out a short, joyless laugh. “Do they need an agenda aside from inciting fear? There's been intended genocide, because some still consider us ‘a scourge upon the galaxy.’ Some misguided attempts to change the system here as it is in relation to offworlders. Or for any of a myriad of other reasons. Take your pick.” She sighed. “Not much in the way of missiles or explosives gets through the extraplanetary domain patrols, but specific electronics, chemicals, or pathogens are much harder to detect within a ship.”

Ahead of them, people set their baggage on a belt that conveyed it through what looked more like an MRI machine than a baggage scanner, though Rose guessed it showed even more than that. After yet another of the DNA scanners — the Doctor had been right; this place really was riddled with them — each person stepped into a large scanner themself. Nothing beyond the checkpoint was visible.

“You really are big on security here, aren't you?” And she'd heard air travel in her time was a bloody nuisance.

J’aen glanced at her, slightly askance. “Well, wouldn't you be?”

“I suppose,” was her slightly reluctant response. She felt the leather around her neck acutely. Didn't she and the Doctor rely on anonymity to slip around someplace unnoticed, right what wrongs they could, see the wonders the place had to offer, and slip away again without fanfare? She had some inkling of how he-they might have previously come to the attention of the wrong people here, though there had to be more to it than that. The Doctor was hardly the sort of person to shy away from confrontations with so-called authorities, or to flee from danger. Neither of them were. “And if you've not been through the proper security checks? Or registered in the system?”

J’aen arched her eyebrows as she set their suitcase on the conveyor belt. “I've heard there are people who live here like that, but I can't imagine how they'd evade checks for very long, or even buy food.”

With a polite smile at the security guard, J’aen swiped her hand over the DNA scanner, and stepped into the body scanner. Rose waited her turn, doing her best to quiet nerves that refused to be entirely quashed. What if enough of the Doctor was still there for the scanner to pick up? Reflexively, she smoothed a hand over her jacket pocket, pressing the watch a bit closer to her.

A security officer gestured for her to come forward. The DNA tag scanner didn't protest, at least, when she swiped her ring over it, and, with a quick inhale, she stepped into the body scanner.

It was, in essence, a wide, vertical metal tube, the air inside practically crackling with the amount of energy running through it. “Please extend all appendages away from your body to their fullest extent, and close or otherwise protect any visual receptors or light-sensing organs,” intoned a mechanical voice. Rose complied, spreading her legs and holding her arms straight out as she closed her eyes. It wasn't a pose she was unfamiliar with, from the occasional Torchwood security patdown. The impersonality here, though, especially coupled with her lack of vision, made it somehow a more vulnerable position, not less of one.

A flash left spots dancing across the inside of her eyelids. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes more firmly shut.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Our security officers will inspect you more closely. Please exit the scanner and comply with all directives issued to you by any of our security team.”

Stomach dropping, Rose did as the computer had instructed. She hardly seemed to have very many alternatives.

“Gentleperson.” A black-uniformed guard confronted her the moment she exited the scanner. “Please step into the inspection area.” Ey gestured to a small booth off to the side.

Rose stopped, looking around for J’aen. “Can I ask what the problem is?” she stalled, taking a deep breath. 

By the conveyor belt, J’aen folded her arms as another security officer lifted their suitcase onto metal inspection table and opened it. But, the TARDIS wouldn't pack anything that would get them in trouble…

Rose's guard glanced between her and J’aen. “I will speak with your sponsor as soon as possible. Now please, let's not hold up the line,” ey requested, more firmly.

Rose shook her head. No way was she getting taken someplace on her own. “J’aen!”

J’aen turned, wrinkling her brow as she saw Rose with the guard.

“Gentleperson.” Fingers closed around Rose’s forearm, and she glanced back at the security officer. “Let's not make a scene. I'd prefer not to have to insist.” The last word was almost a hiss.

The officer with their suitcase said something to draw J’aen’s attention again, but she held up a hand in the universal “wait” gesture, and strode towards Rose. Something in the way she moved reminded Rose of a panther, smooth and intent. “What seems to be the problem?” 

The guard cleared eir throat. “Your companion has an unidentified object on her person. It is required we search her and inspect this object.”

“I would like to be present for that search.” J’aen crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone left no room for it to be interpreted as a request.

“As is your right as her sponsor, gentleperson.” The guard’s words carried a smooth, mollifying cadence. “But I believe my colleague also requires your attention, and we need to keep the inspection line flowing.”

J’aen practically glowered at em. “I insist she stays with me. We'll go through both the baggage search and the personal search together. It's my good name on the line as well as hers, after all.”

“Gentleperson, we cannot delay searches.” Seeming to sense the commotion, more guards were gravitating towards them. “Once a suspicion has been raised, we are obligated to act upon it in as timely a manner as possible. However, all inspections are recorded per protocol and can be made available to those with the right to access it.”

J’aen glanced at one of the approaching officers, and set her jaw. “I will want access. Rose,” she said, and softened, laying a hand on Rose’s arm, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. There must have been some kind of mistake.”

Rose could only nod. “Yeah, ‘m sure it's just some sort of mistake.” The words rasped over her tongue, and she cleared her throat. “I'll be all right.” It felt like a lie.

J’aen gazed at her for a moment longer, lightning flickering in her eyes — that brush of her thumb stealing Rose's focus, a split second  — and then she was returning to the baggage inspection.

“Now that's settled…” The guard gestured meaningfully towards the booth again. “If you would please accompany me for inspection.”

Swallowing, Rose allowed herself to drift slowly towards the door. She could probably take on a guard or two and run, but where would that leave the Doctor? (And J’aen?) They had to live here, for however long. And Rose couldn’t leave her alone.

Then the door to the booth slid shut, sealing Rose and the guard inside.

Chains hung from the ceiling and one wall, like the strands of a spider’s web. Opposite them stood a table and chair, plain, sturdy metal, bolted to the floor, with a post to attach cuffs, the spartan décor of an interrogation room. A soft hum filled the room, not unlike inside the body scanner. No one-way window was visible, but Rose was willing to bet there was one all the same. Maybe running would have been the better decision.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. “So what happens now?”

“I’m going to begin with a pocket search.” The guard cleared eir throat, pulling a tube of some sort of paste out of eir pocket. Ey daubed it into eir palms, and began rubbing eir hands together, smearing the substance like lotion over the rest of eir skin. “Please raise your hands above your head and keep them there.” 

The fobwatch weighed down the right side of her jacket, and Rose’s heart sank with it. “I think I know what set it off. It's just a watch,” she tried. “I can show you if you li—”

“Hands above your head, please.” It was half a bark, and at that point discretion was likely the better part of valor. It just looked like some fancy old watch, really. But she remained tense. If anything were to happen to it...

The lotion left a thin, shiny film on the guard’s hands, like skintight plastic gloves. Slowly, achingly, Rose lifted her hands, and watched as ey unzipped her pocket and pulled out the fobwatch.

Ey turned it over in eir hands, examining the engraving. “What is this?” ey demanded, almost angrily. “What sort of device is it? Is it electronic, or explosive?”

She nearly laughed, out of sheer bloody irony. “It's mechanical. It's a watch — a small clock. It tells time. It's a very old human technology.”

“How?” Eyes narrowed, ey peered at her from beneath eir lashes.

“May I have it back so I can show you?” Carefully polite, nonthreatening.

“I can't do that. Tell me how it's supposed to function.” Ey crossed the room, to the opposite wall.

Eyes on the fobwatch, Rose followed. “I'm not an engineer, but I can explain the basics. It's —”

A compartment opened in the wall, and the guard set the watch inside. Then the compartment slid shut again.

“What are you —?” she half-cried, before biting down on her lip and purposefully lowering her shaky voice. It burned, this compliance with a system she'd already begun to think of as an enemy, but over the years she had learned to employ her rage and stubbornness with a little more precision. “Why did you do that?”

“Please take three steps back.” The guard’s shoulders were tense, eir chin lifted stiffly.

Swallowing, she put a little more space between herself and em, to purposely seem less threatening. “What was that for?” She swallowed, trying to further even her voice. “I could’ve just shown you how it works, that it's not a bomb or anything, and then I could’ve been on my way already.”

The guard glanced at her, but didn't respond. A display lit up on the wall, text scrolling too quickly for Rose to really read the portions of it the TARDIS did translate. What she did see looked like chemistry equations, something about unstable radiation and biological material…

Noticing her watching, ey frowned and swiped away the readout. “ _ Is kei zhel’t? _ ”

Rose’s stomach churned. “I’m sorry, I don’t — I didn't quite understand. Could you say that again?”

“ _Haye-nhish jeil’t’j sdio. Hashel’t lii’il vhampre’ed_.” Ey spoke harshly, gesturing towards the wall compartment. “ _Dzhak. Is kei zhel’t?_ _‘Watch,’ natel’t’d,  ue nhi?_ ”

“Yeah, it’s called a watch, a pocket watch.” She crossed her fingers, both that the TARDIS was at least translating her words, and that she was offering whatever information the guard was looking for. “When you open it, there are numbers on it, and the little hand — pointer — tells you the hour, points to it. And the longer pointer tells you the minutes. In Earth time. But you have to wind it, usually, uhm, add mechanical energy every so often so it keeps running, because it hasn’t got a battery or anything. It’s really, really old. That one, it doesn't work quite right. I just keep it for sentimental purposes. Reminds me of home.”

“And you always keep it on your person?”

Relieved, Rose let out a breath. “Yeah —” Of course she would, though that might not be the safest — “I mean, no, not really. I’ve been keeping it with me while we traveled, just, for safekeeping and all. But I don't carry it everywhere with me. I usually keep it someplace at home, nightstand, dresser, you know.”

Ey hummed thoughtfully, noncommittally, regarding her closely. “And how long have you had it?”

“Not very long.” The fewer lies you told… “Picked it up at a bazaar somewhere, one of those antiques sellers.”

“And yet you claim it carries significance for you.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it's from Earth.” She shrugged, finally finding something like a rhythm, a role she could play. “I mean, I'm God knows how many billions of miles away. What's this all about, anyways?”

The guard shook eir head. “Above my clearance.”

Behind her, Rose heard the  _ click _ of the latch, and turned to see the door sliding open again. Two more black-uniformed officers filed in, one after the other. One of them nodded towards the guard who had originally taken Rose out of the customs line. “You may go.”

Ey executed a half-bow, and the tension in eir shoulders dissipated as ey stepped out the door.

Rose swallowed, eyeing these new police, or whatever they were. “Security enforcers,” or some other pretty name, no doubt. They sported cuffs and holsters on their belts, and stripes of gold across their chests — the auburn-haired, more feminine of the two wore one sash-like diagonal band, and other, darker-haired officer, two. Drawing eir brows together, Two-Stripes stepped towards Rose, and she took half a step back, on pure instinct.  One-Stripe clicked eir tongue, and when Two glanced at em, ey looked meaningfully at the upper corners of the room. Rose saw nothing as she followed eir gaze, but Two grumbled inaudibly.

“Please take a seat, Rose Tyler.” Two enunciated eir words loudly and clearly as ey gestured towards the chair closest to the chains.

Eyeing em warily, Rose saw nothing for it but to lower herself into the seat. She glanced at the nearest ceiling corner. At least they acted like there were cameras. “I'd like my stuff back, please, and I'd like to know what all this is about.”

Two narrowed eir eyes, and One pressed eir lips together, glancing crossly at the first, who glared right back. They'd reminded her of whatever unknown, critical eyes might be privy to the footage of this, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to use it. This was going to be a theater performance, not an interrogation, and everyone in the room knew it.

Two-Stripes sat down opposite her, while One remained standing, behind and to the left of what seemed to be her superior officer. “Your…  _ device _ is being held as possible evidence in an investigation. Once said investigation has concluded, you or your sponsor may petition for its return.” Calmly, coldly courteous, if barely that.

Rose sat back in the chair, a small noise of disbelief escaping her. They had to be kidding. She  _ needed _ — the Doctor needed — “Well, that's just fan-bloody-tastic,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else in the room. “What's this investigation about, then? How long do you think it's gonna go for?”

“We can't predict that.” Smoothly, deliberately, Two-Stripes laid eir hands on the table, palms down, and leaned forward. “Let's cut to the heart, Rose Tyler: what do you know about the Doctor?”

She’d been expecting — fearing — something like this. “The Doctor who?”

“He simply goes by ‘the Doctor.’ Quite a  _ unique _ sort of man. Last of his species, and rumors say he can change his face.” Two sets of eyes, possibly more, watched her carefully.

She lifted one shoulder. “‘S that supposed to impress me?”

“Do not play with us, Rose Tyler. Answer the question: do you know of this Doctor?”

“I don't know, maybe?” Spreading her hands, widening her eyes, she did her best to play innocent ignorance, to think as if she were her role, the oblivious foreign housewife. (She was not at all meant for this position.) “Has he been on the news? I might've heard of him, but with the moving to a whole other planet and all, I’ve been sort of preoccupied lately. What do you want with this bloke, anyway?” Not a bloke anymore — hopefully that would work in her favor. “What's he done?”

“He is in possession of technology able to compromise security measures and personal identities.” The sonic could probably muck up all their scanners, yeah, and good riddance. Did the Doctor — did J'aen still have that on her? “He has attempted to reveal state secrets to the general public, and we believe him to be involved in the formation of an extremist movement.” A careful pause, then: “You are curious. Yet you say you do not know him?” The words were carefully polite, but Rose could feel the sharp edge lurking just beneath.

“No.” She shook her head, silently seething. Whatever the Doctor had done here, she was starting to think he hadn't done nearly enough. “Don't know a thing. I think it's pretty normal to be a bit curious about the reason you're being searched and bloody interrogated.”

“Hrm.” Two glanced back at One. “Depiction.”

Ey adjusted eir hands behind eir back, and a holographic model appeared on the table in front of her. It was her Doctor, her first Doctor, mid-run, sonic in hand, leather jacket flapping out behind him, the beginning of a panting, empty smile on his lips and a lost sort of look in his eyes.

She stiffened, and swallowed, and kept herself from smiling fondly. Of course he'd be running. “What's this from? I'm guessing that's the bloke you're looking for.”

“If you know anything, Rose Tyler, now would be the time to tell us,” One spoke up again. Two-Stripes swiveled eir head and glared at em. One bowed eir head and took a step back.

“My colleague is correct, though you have already been offered more than enough chance to be honest with us.” Patronizingly, Two continued, “But I'm willing to be lenient.”

They all waited, allowing silence to swell and fill the air. Finally, Rose shook her head. “I don't know that man, and I don't know why I'm here.” Her voice bent and cracked, part desperation and part just plain, sudden exhaustion.

“There was Time Lord DNA all over your device.” Ey let the statement sit in the room.

Rose closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head again. “I've got no clue how it got there. If it's older, the DNA, well, I haven't had the watch very long. And everybody wants to look at it, the customs agent when we left, the bloke on the shuttle wondering what that lump of metal in my pocket was, all of you…” She lifted a hand to indicate, vaguely, the generality of it. 

“Are you insinuating you may have met and conversed with him recently?” Two's biting accusation came swiftly, like the crack of a whip.

“What I'm saying,” she enunciated, with some force behind her tone, “is that I could've met this bloke without knowing it, and that's how his — DNA got all over my stuff. You said he could change his face, yeah? So how on Earth was I supposed to know?” She lifted her hands in exasperation. “Is it even  _ his _ DNA?”

She wasn't a xenobiologist (though she probably knew at least as much as any scientist Torchwood had hired for that official position), but she really doubted her new new new Doctor's signature matched that of her first Doctor.

She seemed to have hit the mark; they exchanged meaningful looks again. “I have already told you: he is the last known individual of his species.”

“Last  _ known _ . So basically, you're not actually sure.” She crossed her arms.

“Both the Time Lords and the Daleks perished in the Time War, girl,” Two snapped.

_ No they didn't, _ she just stopped herself from saying, and pressed her lips together.  _ Not the Daleks at least. Not every single other Time Lord either. _

“All of them, because  _ this one _ —” ey stabbed a finger at the hologram on the table — “killed them all. And while the universe may be grateful for that, we damn well know he's capable of  _ anything _ . Wherever he goes, people  _ die _ . By S'varekha's talons, if you don't tell me what you know…” Ey trailed into a growl more eloquent than any words.

“Have you ever thought maybe people die _in spite of_ and not _because_ _of_ him?” The words just slipped out; at some point she couldn't _not_ defend the Doctor. “People die whenever firemen are around, too, doesn't mean it's their fault!”

“You are taking the side of a man you claim to know nothing about.” The subtle triumph in eir tone hit Rose like a slap.

She tried to keep her shoulders from hunching up defensively, but she cast her gaze down. “No.” It stung, to force the word out. “I'm not taking his side. I'm just saying maybe you haven't got all the facts yet.”

“What did you think an investigation was  _ for _ ?” Two bared eir pointed teeth, leaning further across the table.

One-Stripe hissed, quietly, increasing the volume until Two stiffened, and slowly sat back. “You'll excuse my colleague. What ey meant to say was that this is not a trial, not of you nor anyone else, right now. Of course we don't have all of the facts yet, which is why we need you to enlighten us if you can.” One tilted eir head. “He was generally considered a special protector of Earth and Earthlings — humans — at one point, was he not?”

“So maybe he touched the watch ages ago, I dunno.” Rose shrugged, purposely obtuse, and twisted her features into what she hoped was a recognizable mixture of exhaustion-desperation-might-be-about-to-cry. “I don't know anything. I just want to go home with my wife.” The word came so easily. “Please.” There were only so many times she could say “I don't know” without the words beginning to sound meaningless even to her own ears.

“ _ She nhar serlit zhel'j'i. Kherzir'j'i'sh en hel'av zharek'ed. _ ” One was no longer speaking to her, though it still would've been nice to know what was being said.

Two looked like ey wanted to argue, but after a moment, ey swallowed and bowed eir head. “ _ Kei es haye’t. _ ”

“ _ Nhar siem zhel't, _ ” One snapped, before turning to Rose. “ _ Vilay't zhel'j'i _ .” The accompanying gesture was small and brisk, but in human it meant “come with me,” so Rose stood. Maybe she'd gotten wrong who was the superior officer here.

A door slid open on the wall opposite from where she'd come in, and Rose stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, clutching it more tightly to herself. “Where are we heading?”

“Your sponsor has been summoned to claim you and answer some questions herself. Afterwards, we'll determine how to proceed.”

“Do I get to be, like, released into her custody or something?” How was she supposed to look after the Doctor if she was locked up somewhere? Though right now, if she and the watch were the main link between the Doctor now and the Doctor they were looking for, maybe it would be better if they weren't connected — except they already were connected, and she was just about sure something wasn't right with the Doctor's brain, and —

Thoughts whirling, she followed One down a stark white hallway, hearing Two's footsteps behind. “Don't you run out of space, keeping so many people locked up?”

“Confinement is widely considered the most humane method of dealing with potential dangers to society, and as a first step we've found it an acceptable compromise in matters concerning non-vhampiiri.” Left, right, then left again; Rose tried to compose a mental map of the place, but doors blended almost seamlessly into the walls until they slid open, and she doubted she'd be able to make her way through here on her own. Hansel and Gretel came to mind, though maybe not breadcrumbs. The floor was an off-white, slightly smudged. Was rubber still a thing here? Then the officer’s words registered properly. “Compromise for non-vhampiiri? What do you do with vhampiiri? And what comes after the compromise for the others?”

“We have a… not a truth drug, but a substance that makes vhampiiri more… compliant, submissive to authority, and this is our first course of action with them. Our second recourse for offworlders is generally to use the same on them, though we can never know precisely how it will react with any particular species or hybrid biology.”

“That's barbaric!” Guttural horror burst from her. If J'aen was fed this stuff...

“It's effective,” One countered from in front of her. “The truth is in everyone's best interest.”

“But you shouldn't take away someone's right to privacy!” She was likely digging herself deeper, she knew. She bit her lip, resolving to keep he reaction to whatever came next bottled up.

“We're not prying into their personal memories. The recipient still retains a significant degree of control of their faculties. And it's far more humane, and efficient, than most other methods.” One's tone brooked no rebuttal, as ey stopped and set eir hand to a small scanner pad. The door slid open, revealing a small, sparse room. A wall sectioned off what looked to be a shower stall, and a sofa-sized flat cushion and small desk occupied the other side.

The officer gestured for her to enter. Frightful certainty seized Rose. “What if I need to use the ladies’?”

They exchanged looks that wavered between puzzlement and exasperation. “The sanitary facilities are multifunctional,” Two finally added, in a tone probably intended to be professional but that ended up more condescending.

“How long will I be shut up in there?” Her voice came out smaller than she would have liked.

“That depends on your sponsor. Now, please.” One repeated the “go in” gesture, with a bit more force.

Seeing little other choice, Rose stepped inside. The doorframe intoned, “Rose Tyler, interned by: Z'herie, at: Sigma Six Delta Quad Era Khavesh,” and she heard the door  _ click _ shut behind her.

 

***

 

First the suitcase radiating abnormal temporo-spatial particles (which they hadn't been able to find the source of, but security had finally given up and let her and the luggage go, given said particles seemed benign ), and now this. Whatever  _ this _ was about.

But J'aen submitted to this, too, closing her eyes as the relaxant entered her bloodstream, mentally running through all the different bonding and inhibition-lowering chemicals in the cocktail as she began to feel their effects. She still felt remarkably clear-headed, though her tongue and eyelids were heavy, the corners of her mouth automatically curling up.

“J'aen'haraya, what does the name ‘the Doctor’ mean to you?” There were several security officers in the room, and she wasn't quite sure which of them had asked the question. It didn't much matter.

“It's familiar, but I can't quite seize why.” Pain seared through her temples, for only a split second, and left her gasping in its wake.

“Have you or your charge, Rose Tyler, ever had contact with a Time Lord?”

“Time Lord” was familiar, too, but she didn't know why, or what either term meant. And she was just about to to tell them this — but  _ Rose _ . She had to protect Rose, and herself, so that she could continue protecting Rose, from — from anything. Her head throbbed, but she kept her mouth closed until she had carefully chosen her words. “No encounters that I recall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm evil. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up in something resembling a timely manner. I'm as anxious as you are to get them back together.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose paced, for several minutes, but that did nothing to quell her racing heart, her mind whirling with what-ifs. The walls seemed to close in on her, suffocating, mocking, working in tandem with her thoughts to remind her of all she  _ couldn't _ do right now: take care of the Doctor, safeguard the watch,  _ protect the Doctor _ … Fat lot of good she'd been so far.

Mentally, she went over everything that had happened, again, trying to think of what she might have done differently. Had she been wrong to try to go along? The Doctor had never liked force, though Rose had come to appreciate it to a certain extent over the years.

But ultimately that was a useless train of thought, too, because she was here, and couldn't change the past. So she set out to examine the room more closely.

There were vents, small slits in the floor and ceiling, but nothing she could fit her pinky through, never mind herself. Was everything solid metal here? The door looked like a wall, and she barely felt the seams when she ran her hands over it. Prying with her fingernails at one of them prompted a sudden, loud, “Do not attempt to tamper with your containment, Rose Tyler. This is a warning. A second attempt will be added to the list of your charges, and you will be liable for any damage you cause.”

She stepped back, hands up, shuddering slightly. It was always weird, feeling  _ watched _ , and even more so when it was a computer doing it, that clinical, disinterested, detailed machine sort of watching. “All right! I'm not tampering. Just… looking around.”

The computer didn't respond.

The shower was next. It was one of those where the tiles just sloped down to the drain, and they apparently hadn't ever heard of shower curtains. The drain grate had large holes in it, but the moment she stepped into the shower area, a quiet whirr started up. A glint not a foot down the drain revealed, upon closer look, whirling metal blades spattered with a sludge she'd rather not think about. “ _ Multifunctional” _ made a disgusting sort of sense now. That investigation was quickly shelved for much more desperate circumstances.

Rose spent another minute or two running her hands along the walls, but she hadn't really expected to find anything, so she wasn't particularly disappointed when she didn't. The desk had no drawers, just a computer terminal. And she might be many things, but she wasn't a hacker. “Not even a bloody pencil,” she muttered to herself. Or a toothbrush.

So, for right now, she gave into her impulse to flop down on the cushion and scream.

_ Why _ did they have to crash  _ here _ of all places? Why did the Doctor have to go and change again? Just as she was getting used to the old-new one, with his black suits and his sunglasses and his gray hair and his lanky energy that was so like her second Doctor and yet not at all. And the way he'd looked at her, with that soft sort of wondering disbelief, and a question hidden in the tilt of his head, the lift of his shoulders: “What do you think?”  _ Do you still like me? _ She'd flown at him and wrapped him up in a hug, and he'd hugged her back so tight she heard her spine crack.

And then there was the way this new-new Doctor's hand had tightened around hers, and the way she'd combed her fingers through Rose's hair, that same sort of marveling affection. And this one had kissed her.

Rose rolled onto her back, muttering a helpless, disgruntled, “Fuck me.”

She had to pretend to be lesbian. And what was the Doctor gonna think when she was herself again? Apologize? Play it off like it had been necessary? Probably a little of both were called for. And what if she never came within ten feet of Rose again? What if she wanted  _ more _ ? Rose's heart sped up. What if  _ J'aen _ wanted more? What was she even gonna —? Her mind froze up. “Fuck,” she whispered again. She'd just have to hope it wouldn't come to that. The TARDIS had better not take too long fixing itself up.

“Please refrain from excessive use of foul language,” the computer intoned. Rose started at the interruption, and propped herself up on her elbows as the mechanical voice continued. “Code of Public Conduct, Section 8, Paragraph 57: in any and all public spaces, that is to say, in any space to which entrance is  _ not _ limited to a clearly delineated set of people and their express guests, the use of language considered insulting, foul, or derogatory should not be broadly indulged in. If a member of the public is offended by such language, ey is to inform the perpetrator of this and request ey cease. Should the perpetrator not comply, ey may be reported to the authorities for disturbing the peace, and further measures shall be taken.”

Rose stiffened, turning onto her back and propping herself up on her elbows to glare at the ceiling. “Have you got rules for everything here?”

“Rules exist to help society function efficiently and peacefully,” the computer replied, in a tone a little too much like the one Rose used to put on for particularly exasperating customers at Henrik's.

“There's no one here to be offended!” she protested. “Unless it bothers you.” Maybe the computers here were advanced enough — but then wouldn't that be like slavery? Maybe they didn't have a problem with that here.

“Foul language trips off the alarms in my manners and sensitivity systems, yes,” the computer replied, its lack of inflection or tone of voice somehow adding more to what it said and not less. “Though you are correct, there is no one present empowered to file any complaint due to offense, but as you seem to have a habit of swearing, I felt it prudent to inform you of the standards of conduct here on Vhampre Four in advance of your departure.”

“So I am going to be released?” Relief welled up.

“This is only a temporary holding facility. You may be released or transferred to longer-term confinement, but either way you will not remain here indefinitely.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Sorry about the swearing.”

Silence was her only response. She sighed. “Can you tell me what I'm in here for? Why do they want the Doctor? I mean, aside from the — him screwing with the technology or whatever. I didn't get much detail before.”

“The official charges against the individual known as ‘the Doctor’ are as follows: disabling local security and identification systems, falsifying his identity, concealing his identity, resisting arrest, purported revelation of patented and proprietary information to members of the general public, purported revelation of government investigation processes, tools, and technological secrets to the general public, and consorting with and aiding and abetting persons later identified as the founders of the ‘Individual Rights Coalition,’ which has been tied definitively to attacks upon port guards, port security, immigration offices, and central security and identification systems.”

Rose took a moment to process this. A lot of it could be chalked up to misunderstandings, and the way she and the Doctor operated outside of whatever authority was in place. They did what needed to be done and didn't bloody justify themselves to anyone. She could get why that might upset some people. “What's the Individual Rights Coalition?”

“The Individual Rights Coalition, commonly abbreviated ‘IRC’ or ‘InRiCol,’ is an activist group dedicated to abolishing the sponsor-charge system currently in use for immigration and identification of non-vhampiiri. The group has been active for years without much success. However, after the individual known as ‘the Doctor’ began a rumor five weeks ago that the security and identification system could identify non-vhampiiri DNA and that sponsors were not truly necessary, their movement received a large influx of adherents. Since then, there have been multiple attacks upon immigration offices and central security systems, in an attempt to ‘prove’ this falsehood. It is currently unknown whether these attacks originate from the group as a whole, or only a radical segment; for now, the entire coalition has been placed under suspicion, and anyone with any information as to the group's whereabouts, members, or plans must report this to the authorities immediately.”

Rose let out a breath. “That clears things up a bit, thanks.” She had a name now, a name and a reason, and of course her Doctor would rip a giant hole in all their bloody propaganda and prejudice. God, she was  _ proud _ of him, and she bit back a smile and reminded herself she really ought to stay away from this group, for the Doctor’s sake and her own.

She swallowed against the next thought that struck her. “And what if they don't find the Doctor? What happens to my watch?”

“Any and all evidence in ongoing cases shall be held until said case is resolved, unless expressly released by no less than three investigators, one of whom must be the officer presiding over the relevant investigation. Any such release is subject to review by each investigator’s immediate superior, and may be revoked at any time while the investigation is still ongoing.”

Rose let her chin fall to her chest. “And what if they just don't find a person? Do they have like five years before they give up? Isn't there some, what's it called, statute of limitations?”

Silence stretched, long enough for Rose to begin worrying at her lip before the reply came. “No.”

“So basically either they find him, or they'll never give me the watch back.” She swore again, under her breath this time. She should have just run, just pushed past the guards and run back to the TARDIS and dragged the Doctor with her.

“‘Never’ is rarely an accurate or truthful designation. There is a possibility —”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, not caring how rude she was being, “And how  _ probable _ is it they'll deign to release my ‘sentimental trinket’ if they haven't found him yet?”

“ _ Nel tser nel nel nel nel nel de s-hir hsara'ed _ .”

That one she could figure out. “Pretty bloody close to zero, I'd say. — Sorry about the language,” she added as an afterthought. She  _ had _ to get the watch back. Nothing else was an option. “This Coalition — have they ever actually been successful? At like, getting past your security or into your offices or whatever.”

Another pause. “No attacks have been reported successful.”

Rose ran a hand through her hair. That could mean they'd all failed, or it could mean whoever was in charge didn't want anyone to know they'd succeeded. “Why're they considered such a threat, then?”

“Any group found taking or attempting to take violent action against government officials or sabotage public infrastructure is considered a threat to society and an enemy of the republic. Danger lies in the intention and ideology as well as the ability or means.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she murmured. There wasn't much more she could ask without arousing further suspicion, so she turned to her next dilemma.

_ “What's it like to fancy women?” _ she'd asked Bill, once, not so very long ago.

_ “What do you mean, what's it like?” Bill had laughed. “It's like fancying a woman, that's what.” _ The memory brought an aching smile to Rose's face now, too.  _ “I can't tell you if it's like fancying a bloke, because I've never done that. Don't think it's much different, though. You want to kiss her, you want to see her happy, you can't stop thinking about her, and she's got the most gorgeous smile, and the way her eyes sparkle…” Bill had trailed off a little dreamily, with a glance at Heather, who stood at the console beside the Doctor, grinning as they examined some control or another. “And you'd rather like to get into her pants, too,” she'd added in a cheeky half-whisper. _

_ Rose had laughed. Because, with the whole oily-drippy-sentient-swamp-creature thing… “Aren't her pants a bit wet? Or, like, sticky?” _

_ “They are once I get to them.” Bill arched an eyebrow, and then Rose had realized — _

_ “I didn't mean it like that!” And she was a little furious in her embarrassment. _

_ “I know — but your face just now!” _

And Rose had shoved Bill's shoulder with her own and then it was off to the glowing pumpkin fields of Hurrako.

_ God _ , how were you supposed to fake being in love? The ring felt out of place; she twisted it on her finger, not really wanting to take it off, either. Her mum had loved Mills and Boon and those sappy romance television movies, but that wasn't the same thing. How did you pretend you were in love with a person  _ to _ that person?

She wished Bill were still here, and not turned to space-time-oil-creature. But, if Bill were here, might the TARDIS have made  _ her _ the Doctor's wife?

Rose's stomach clenched up at the thought.  _ No _ , for that fraction of a moment she was grateful Bill wasn't here — and then was disgusted with herself for thinking that. Because of course Bill would have made a better lesbian wife, which meant maybe the Doctor would now be safer, which meant — which meant Bill really should be here, and the Doctor was the right gender for her now, and she and Heather could go wherever they liked on this planet, without scans or locks or walls, and —

Rose lay back, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep herself from wrapping her arms around her and curling up. Bill wasn't here, so she'd have to do. She would find some way to get the watch back, blow up the entire bloody compound if she had to — the Doctor wouldn't be a fan, but maybe it would finally knock some sense into these fascist bloodsuckers — and she'd be the best wife she could in the meantime.

The TARDIS had just better heal fast. Was there a rift anywhere near? Or some way to give her some sort of energy infusion?

...didn't being a good wife mean sleeping with a person? Fuck that, she was a feminist. But if you loved someone, didn't you — maybe this Doctor, or this alien, just wasn't into anyone like that. She could hope.

And if J'aen was? God, she couldn't — It was still the Doctor's body, even if it was someone else, too, and bloody hell, how did you even  _ think _ about a situation like this?

“Application received for the release of: Rose Tyler, into custody of: J'aen'haraya, bondmate, as a trusted member of  _ vhampiiri _ society with level: three and below, classification clearance.” The flat, metallic voice startled her out of her thoughts. “This would be permissible under current statutes. Pending confirmation by interning officer: Z'herie.”

Rose held her breath, slowly letting it out when nothing further came for several long moments. “How long is it gonna take? The approval?”

The computer took a moment to respond. “Conditions are being stipulated presently, which the would-be custodian must agree to. Policy is not to estimate any specific time for this process, as the time taken is widely variable due to the ‘human element.’”

Rose lay her head back against the cushion. “I do get food if I'm in here for like eight hours, right?” She just might go stir-crazy if she was in here for eight hours with nothing to do but  _ think _ . “Any other weird rules I should know about? Besides the no smiling. And gender being… whatever, not important.”

“It is the responsibility of your sponsor to educate you as to our laws and customs,” the computer intoned, and Rose might have called it a bit huffy. “I possess no knowledge of your foreknowledge or previous frame of reference, and so cannot answer such a vague and open question.”

“Of course not. It's just that there wasn't much time between landing and immigration and customs for her to give me a crash course on vampire manners. Plus it's been forever since she was last on this planet — I figured there might be some new stuff she doesn't know either.”

“Firstly, do not use the term ‘vampire.’ Many  _ vhampiiri _ —” the computer enunciated the word, voicing a quick hint of the  _ h _ , rounding the  _ ah _ , drawing out the two-note  _ ii, _ rolling the  _ r _  — “will take offense, as it is simply not the correct term for the species, planet, or society. It should also go without saying that ‘bloodsucker,’ ‘parasite,’ or any similar derogatory terms are considered insulting and are not to be used under any circumstances. Secondly, I am neither equipped nor authorized to offer a ‘crash course on  _ vhampiiri _ manners,’ as I cannot be held liable for any failure or omission in your education, nor for any noncompliance on your part. I regret that I cannot be of more assistance in this matter, but my programming will not allow me to undertake any systemic education, merely correct mistakes, crimes, offenses, and faux pas as I see them.”

“You can't even offer advice?” She really wasn't sure what to think of this computer, with enough of a personality to be a proper AI, with a very strict awareness of its own machine-hood and clearly not considered a person. “Are all computers — or, machines, or systems — like you?”

“Like me in which manner? All computers and digital systems are composed of the same basic components, but they do not all have my level of complexity. I am a highly advanced legal, informational, judiciary, and incarceration assistant, LIJAIA version 5.67 for short.” A moment's hesitation, a soft humming through the speakers, then: “I suppose I could offer advice, under the provisions that it in no way constitutes any comprehensive, complete, legally binding, or necessarily correct statement, that judgement of any individual infraction is subject to the discretion of any and all presiding officers of the law, that said advice is generalized only and will often fail to take into account the nuance of any particular situation, et cetera, et cetera. Was there any subject in particular upon which you seek advice?”

_ Do you always speak legalese that takes like ten minutes just to understand? _ she already knew the answer to.  _ What does being the wife of a vampire even look like? _ was far too telling, because Rose was supposed to already know.  _ Why are you all so paranoid and seem to think your neighbors hate you?  _ was also probably not a good question to ask, and Rose could kind of understand why people wouldn't really  _ want _ to live next door to a vampire, metaphorically speaking.

It was a little like wishing on a genie in a bottle, only instead of only three wishes of whatever she wanted, she had unlimited questions on so many topics she couldn't ask about. “You're recording this conversation, am I right? In case I accidentally reveal something or whatever.”

“Of course. Suspects in custody are continually under observation and recording, both for their benefit and the benefit of any investigation.”

She couldn't say she'd expected anything else. “Do you often get non-vhampiiri people in here?”

“Almost exclusively. Other methods of interrogation and control exist for vhampiiri.”

Rose's stomach sunk as she remembered their bloody  _ pliability drug _ . With some effort, she restrained the part of her (most of her) that wanted, that  _ demanded _ she pace and bang on the walls and scream  _ let me the fuck out! let me get back to the Doctor already! _

“Are most non-vhampiiri here married to a vhampiiri?” Something, anything to get her mind off things she couldn't do a bloody thing about right now.

“Not necessarily. Around forty percent of offworlders immigrate as immediate or intimate family members of a  _ vhampiir _ . Around seventy percent of those who do not enter as part of a family, however, are business travelers, tourists, students, and other persons whose stay is of a transitory nature — your own, for instance, though of course you would generally be permitted to extend your stay on the planet if your sponsor should decide to extend hers.”

“That's good to know.” Not that she planned on staying here one millisecond longer than necessary. “What’s the history of the planet? And, like, the species? I haven't gotten the feeling you get along really well with others.”

“A comprehensively detailed history of the planet and the species would take much more time than you likely have here.”

“No need to be smart about it.” She rolled her eyes. “I just want the big picture.”

“Your question is still far too vague for me to answer. I could provide you with information about the founding and development of Kharavzed, or the terms of the recent peace treaty between Vhampre Four and the Alliance of Vhampiirian System Neighbors, or a brief scientific background on the evolution of the  _ vhampiiri _ as a species and a largely unified society, but it is quite impossible for me to narrow the vast wealth of information on the planet's and solar system's past several millenia to a single ‘big picture.’ It is more comparable to a mosaic or jigsaw puzzle — I can describe any individual piece, but I cannot communicate the whole to you without also communicating how all of the various pieces fit together.”

“You know, I once heard,” and this would be petty but she couldn't quite bring herself to care, “that if you can't explain something to a nine-year-old, then you don't really understa —”

“Approval has been given by: Z’herie, for the release of: Rose Tyler, into the custody of: J'aen'haraya,” the computer interrupted her. Rose sat up, then stood, as the realization and accompanying elation crashed over her. She thanked the stars and the TARDIS for whatever foresight put J'aen in good standing with the system here. “Your sponsor and/or custodian will inform you as to the conditions and stipulations of your release, and is responsible for ensuring compliance. Please keep away from the door during the release procedure until given permission to leave this cell, and please see to it that we have no reason to incarcerate you again. Have a pleasant night.”

“Yeah, good riddance to you, too,” she muttered, and watched as the door panel lifted away from the wall, and slid to the side.

And she didn't think, barely noted the officers standing beside the — not the Doctor. She just ran.

She threw herself into J'aen's arms, wrapped her arms around her neck, buried her face against her shoulder. “God, I was so scared.” She hadn't even realized just how  _ much _ —

“I’m so sorry, love.” J'aen wrapped her arms around her, stroking her hair. “But you're here now.”

For a moment, Rose just burrowed into her embrace. Because she was with the Doctor, and everything seemed a little righter with the world, and for a moment, a brief moment, she could forget the lost watch and the charred TARDIS and the leather collar around her neck.

“I was scared, too,” J'aen murmured, “but it's all right now.”

Rose took a deep breath and a step back, letting her arms drop to her sides. “Can we get out of here?”

J'aen nodded. “Of course.” Her gaze flicked down to Rose's lips, then up again, and she reached out to twine their fingers together. “Let's.” And she smiled.

 

***

 

Rose bit her lip, leaned in, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, almost hesitantly.

J'aen pressed her lips together, a little wryly. “No need to be shy, love.” She squeezed Rose's hand in hers. “Vhampre Four is nothing like your Earth.”

Cheeks flushing, Rose opened her mouth, wordless for a moment. “I — did get that much, yeah.”

Hadn't Earth shaken off their medieval prudishness a millennium ago? Why had she—

Detective Major Z'herie cleared eir throat. “Allow me to escort the two of you to the exit.”

She was tired; they both were. She brushed her lips over Rose's cheek in return, fighting the urge to linger, to nip —  _ later _ — and took the handle of their suitcase. 

Then it occurred to her: “The time?”

“Two hours until sunrise,” the Detective Major answered.

She exhaled slowly in relief, mentally batting away all the niggling questions this entire ordeal had brought up. Surely there was a perfectly mundane explanation, for that watch she hadn't even known Rose possessed —  _ surely _ , she told herself firmly.


End file.
